Occulted Hearts
by TheQuiet
Summary: Hermione Granger is struggling with her lesbianism and contemplating suicide. Will Severus Snape be able to let down his guard in order to save her life? And what has Harry Potter got to do with it? FemSLASH pairings and a side dish of Snarry. Dark. Lime.
1. Song of the Highest Tower

Chapter One: Song of the Highest Tower

_I said to myself: let be,   
And let no one see you:   
Do without the promise    
Of higher joys.   
Let nothing delay you,   
Majestic retirement._

Fear and suffering  
Have flown to the skies  
And morbid thirst   
Darkens my veins.

_- _Arthur Rimbaud

To everyone who knew her, Hermione Granger was the girl with the corkscrew hair and the crooked teeth. Not a single thing about her was straight, or so the running joke at Hogwarts went. For the past four years, Hermione had tried to belie these rumours with her straight A's and her straight-laced demeanour. But lately she had faltered, receiving a poor grade on a Potions assignment and earning herself a detention with Professor Snape after she contested his slanted marking rubric. _Just today_: she kept trying to tell herself. _I've only screwed up one day out of three hundred and sixty five this year_. _That's 99.7 percent. Almost perfect. _But for Hermione Granger, this almost perfect record was insufferable. And, of course, underlying this asinine perfectionism was something much worse and far more sinister.

"Filthy mudblood dyke," Draco Malfoy's familiar invective rang in her ears as she stared at a more contented of herself in the Mirror of Erised. In the quixotic reflection, Ginny Weasley lovingly caressed the trembling girl. Soft kisses coupled with doting whispers moved the dejected witch to tears. At night, Hermione sometimes dreamt that Ginny was her wife, that the two girls had married in an exquisite same-sex ceremony attended by loyal family and friends, that the couple had moved to a charming yellow house in Surrey and woke up together winter mornings in the same double bed, shielded from the rest of the world by Tudor-style windows rendered opaque by labyrinthine patterns of frost. Until now, Hermione had never quite recognized this as a pipe dream, a flight of fancy, a castle in Spain, never to be. This fantasy had meant everything to her. She had hoped for a brighter future, a happy ending, albeit slightly different from those detailed in the fairy tales her Muggle parents had read to her as a child. As much vitriol as she had faced in the drafty corridors of Hogwarts from her peers, she had, until now, believed that one day they would no longer be poles apart. They would have their lives, circumscribed by white-picket fences, as she would have her own, ordinary in its simple joys and limitations. But Ginny's rejection had destroyed her aspirations of normality. There was simply no room in her imagination for a future as a lesbian witch reviled by the only girl she had ever loved. Her ticket out of her personal hell had turned out to be null and void. Her life was over but the self-deprecating tragicomedy dragged on. She would end it. Tonight.

Hermione was due to report at Snape's dungeon office at eight o'clock sharp and she was already fifteen minutes late. Reason enough to kill herself, she thought with a twinge of black humour. Turning her back on the Mirror of Erised, Hermione started her long trek to the Astronomy tower. This was to be her final hour.

"This is to be my final hour," she reminded herself as she jostled her way through hoards of students biding their time until curfew.

"Hey, look Ginny! There goes your girlfriend!" Padma Patil sneered, pointing at the wisp of a girl skulking through the evening foot traffic.

Hastily, Hermione turned around to face the redhead.

"Goodbye, Ginny," she whispered almost inaudibly, her voice choked by raw emotion. Without thinking, she reached out to touch Ginny's shoulder.

"Unhand me, you morgny lezzer!" Ginny lashed out, her eyes flaming with fear and rage.

Lingering in the shadows of the Entrance Hall, Severus Snape heard this commotion as he scanned the crowds for his errant student. He reached the Grand Staircase just in time to see Hermione Granger dashing up the flight of steps, leaving an unruly pack of homophobes in her wake.

Bewilderment immobilized him for a moment as he watched the fifteen year old's angst-ridden escape. Most likely, the Gryffindor brat was simply bunking off and had started a senseless argument with these girls on her way to wreak havoc with her regrettable choice of friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. His robes billowing ominously, Snape steeled himself for the maddening chase before him and set off after Miss Granger.


	2. The Foolish Virgin

Chapter Two: The Foolish Virgin

"_Right now, it's the end of the world! Oh, girls... my friends!... no, not my friends... I've never gone through anything like this, delirium, torments, anything... It's so silly."_

_"Oh! I cry, I'm suffering. I really am suffering. And still I've got a right to do whatever I want, now that I am covered with contempt by the most contemptible hearts."_

_- _Arthur Rimbaud

Hermione Granger was in trouble. _She had to be_, thought Severus Snape as he ascended the stairs to the Astronomy tower, his feet aching under the weight of his ever-growing paunch, brought on by too many calorific dinners in the Great Hall. There was simply no space in his imagination for a state of affairs that would justify such waywardness from any Hogwarts student, even a typically obsequious one such as Miss Granger.

_Who does she think she is?_ Snape fumed, gnashing his teeth as he climbed higher, more and more convinced of the ill-discipline of Gryffindor's star pupil. Dumbledore would be hearing about this little incident, most certainly. How could he be expected to maintain order in his classroom if disobedient students simply skipped the detentions he assigned them? Still, as badly as he wanted to reprimand Miss Granger, he began to feel quite daft for devoting his evening to hunting down the impertinent witch. _I could be warm in my rooms, assuaging my grief with firewhisky_, he lamented. Instead, he had just spent his last precious moments of free time before his weekly staff meeting scaling Hogwarts' highest tower. _All for what?_

Granger. Inconsolable, she was standing on the edge of the open window, framing a bitter and soundless February night. The Potions Master did a double take. Was the teenaged killjoy actually considering jumping?

"Miss Granger, _what _do you think you are doing?" Snape broke the ice with his stock question, his voice slightly strained.

"Ending my life, sir," Hermione responded tersely.

Privately, Snape was stunned by the sombre resolution with which the young witch had delivered this statement but he was such a skilled Occlumens that this visceral reaction remained undetectable.

"It's…because of the Potions project," she added hastily, not wanting to reveal her true suicidal motivation, "I did so poorly and I…. treated you with such disrespect…sir. And I skipped my detention for God's sakes. I couldn't hope to…"

The fourth-year student broke out into tears, again.

"No. Naturally, you couldn't hope to survive my wrath after all of that," Snape spat caustically, annoyed that the girl would make up such a blatant lie within an inch of killing herself and somewhat indignant that he was the one who was going to have to talk her out of this, "I might be a sour old git, Miss Granger, but I'm not dense enough to believe that you have nothing to live for simply because you've fallen out of my favour…for one day."

"Well, it's true," Hermione sniffed, "My grades are very…important to me. As you well know. And I do… I do care what… you think…of me."

Snape very nearly guffawed at the flattering, albeit completely unbelievable, notion that his approbation was worth dying for in the eyes of a fifteen-year old girl.

"But _honestly_, Miss Granger," he began again, this time almost humanely, "_Who_ is this really about? Because we both know it's not about me. Let me guess. Has a Gryffindor boy broken your heart? Potter? That intolerable braggart. Or Weasley, per—"

"Weasley," Hermione blurted out cryptically, "It's Weasley."

"I knew it," Snape rejoined, "That thick-headed twit has gone and impregnated you, hasn't he?"

"No," Hermione said quietly with a hint of disappointment in her voice, "You're wrong."

"Oh, don't tell me you're defending the lascivious little bastard!" Snape rolled his eyes, incensed by the implications of his false presumption, "The boy can't just –"

"No," Hermione repeated, cutting him off, "It's not Ron."

_Not Ron?_ Snape threw up his hands in resignation. The Weasley boys were a dime a dozen. What did it matter to him which one it was?

"It's Ginny," Hermione whispered, looking down on the far-off lights of Hogsmeade, where the girls had shared their first and only kiss.

_Ginny Weasley?_ Snape reeled, trying to make sense of it. Then he remembered that the girls had been fighting in the stairwell.

"That's right – _Miss_ Weasley. She called you a name just now. On the stairs," Snape ventured.

Hermione turned to her Potions professor, apparently humiliated.

"Forgive me, Miss Granger, I didn't quite twig what was going on between you ladies," Snape admitted gauchely, "What exactly did it mean? The word Miss Weasley used… I believe it started with an L."

"Lezzer," Hermione huffed, turning away abruptly, "She called me a lezzer."

"What's that?" Snape blundered.

"It's a derogatory term for a lesbian," the witch rattled off noncommittally and then added furiously, "Like dyke and rug-muncher and all those other choice terms your Slytherins reserve for me."

Flustered, Snape started to speak without mulling anything over, "Well, Miss Granger… I mean everyone knows you're not—"

"Straight," Hermione sighed, "I know. Nothing about me is."

"That's not what I was going to say," Snape said aloud, discomfited and clearly shocked, "Miss Granger, you're… gay?"


	3. I'm Nobody! Who Are You?

Chapter Three: I'm Nobody! Who Are You?

_After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs._

- Emily Dickinson

Severus Snape shook himself. Could he be any more tactless when speaking to a troubled student obviously at the end of her tether? If she jumped after this, it would be his funeral. Dumbledore might blame him. For that matter, he would probably blame himself. Not to mention that offending a broken-hearted teenaged girl on the day of her death was a sure-fire recipe for a ghost. And the last thing he wanted was the spectre of Hermione Granger harassing him to his own grave, and Lord knows, even after. The Potions Master had still not exorcised his own demons from his turbulent adolescence and was liable to become a phantom menace himself.

"I thought you knew," Hermione murmured harrowingly, "I thought everyone knew."

"I apologize, Miss Granger. I didn't know," Snape offered, unsure where this tricky conversation would lead.

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll go now," the miserable girl forewarned him, inching closer to the edge, "If you don't want to be scarred for life, this might be a good time to turn away."

"NO!" Snape bellowed, at once frantic and irate, "It is not _all the same to me_, Miss Granger, I assure you. Believe it or not, I do… have a vested interest… in your wellbeing."

Bizarrely, Hermione began to snicker tearfully.

"Honestly, Professor Snape," she shook her head, "I might be a self-pitying brownnoser but I do know you couldn't care less if I live or die. And if you do, it has nothing to do with me. You're full of spleen and selfishness, as am I. What you want is to walk away from here with a clean conscience."

"Even if that were true, Miss Granger," Snape reasoned hastily, "We've already established that my insensitivity is none of your concern. Now, hear me out: so you're not like the other girls. That's no reason to off yourself."

"Clearly, Professor Snape, you have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione sounded worn out, "Please, just _let me be_. Christ. Can't a girl kill herself without a grand inquisition?"

"There's nothing wrong with being gay, Hermione," Snape said softly.

The cheerless witch began to weep.

"You know what?" she sobbed, "Fuck you, Snape. Just…really…fuck you. Because we both know you're just saying that to keep me from jumping. I don't need your help."

_I can do this_, Hermione braced herself, _I __**will**__ do this_.

"Maybe you're right, Miss Granger," Snape reverted to his formal tone, "Perhaps the headmaster would be better positioned to help you. Please, let me take you to him."

"Dumbledore?" Hermione scoffed, "Why would Dumbledore be able to help me? He was fifteen years old about what? … a century ago? When he was my age, homosexuals were probably burned at the stake. You probably just want to get me expelled."

Snape hesitated, then opted not to out his superior to the fourth year.

"Don't you think you're underestimating us, just a bit?" he entreated, "The wizarding world has come a long way in terms of—"

"Just last week," Hermione interrupted crushingly, "Millicient Bulstrode and Flora Carrow shoved my head in the toilet while Moaning Myrtle looked on. Floating about, laughing. Because it bothers them that much, you know? That I'm a lesbian. And as a parting gift, they gave me this!"

The witch lifted back her long wavy hair to reveal a scar on her neck.

"Burned me with an Incendio spell whilst I slept," Hermione explained after she had showed him the forensic evidence.

"Did you report this to your Head of House? That's gay-bashing. It's not allowed!" Snape remarked stormily.

"No, of course I didn't tell anyone." Hermione confessed, "They told me if I snitched that next time they'd use the killing curse. And I believe them! Homophobic nutters. But seeing as I'm about to do the job myself, I supposed it couldn't hurt to tell you."

"Miss Granger… I…" Snape was thunderstruck, "I absolutely forbid you to… Those students…if they threatened to murder you I promise you they'll be automatically expelled from Hogwarts. They'll never bother you again. But you can't… You mustn't kill yourself, dear girl. I'm not leaving this place without you in my charge."

Hermione gave Severus an equivocal look.

"But I feel as if…if I wake up tomorrow morning, I'll have failed," she expressed candidly, "I made a pact with myself. Yet, I must say, sir, you've ruined the moment. This was supposed to be different. More romantic or something. I was supposed to be here alone with my thoughts but instead I'm here bickering with you. Still, I can't turn back now."

"Why ever not? It certainly sounds like you're having misgivings," the Potions Master observed anxiously.

"Because I don't want to be…I don't know…incarcerated? You're taking me to Dumbledore and I doubt he's going to handle my attempted suicide by offering me a chocolate frog. He'll send me away."

"You don't seem very happy here."

"It's not because I didn't want to be! Believe me, I tried to be happy here. Ginny…at first she…she gave me more hope and happiness than I'd known my whole life. But now…well, you've seen how she treats me!" Hermione cried devastatingly.

"What if…" Snape couldn't believe the offer he was about to make, "What if I didn't tell Dumbledore about this? Would you come with me, then?"

"Maybe," Hermione conceded, "I'd consider a moratorium on suicide, I guess. So don't be surprised if—"

"Say no more," Snape cringed, stopping her midsentence, "Come now, before I change my mind."

"All right," the shaky girl gave in, surrendering herself to Severus' custody.

Hermione grasped her professor's outstretched hand as he guided her off the stony threshold.

"But remember, you swore you'd tell no one. You can't. You promised," Hermione reminded him worriedly as they started down the spiral staircase, "Not about the scar, or the threats…or anything. If you do, I'm liable to be snuffed before anyone gets sent home. Moreover, there are alliances…gangs…"

"It seems to me, Miss Granger," Severus gave her a half-smile, "That you'd like to live, after all."

"Don't presume to know what I want," Hermione sniffed portentously, "And you can wash your hands of this. It's none of your concern anymore. Good evening, Professor."

"See you in Potions then, Miss Granger," Snape called after her apprehensively.

She was already out of sight. Severus heaved a sigh. He needed that firewhisky now, more than ever. Granger aside, he knew very well that this traumatic night was just beginning.

Once back in his rooms, goblet of spirits in hand, all his thoughts turned to James Potter. Time could not erase the memory of an unabashed smile against an early June sky.


	4. The Potions Master as a Young Man

* A/N - _**The following chapter is very disturbing. Reader discretion is advised.**_

Chapter Four: A Portrait of the Potions Master as a Young Man

_A cold lucid indifference reigned in his soul._

_- _James Joyce

_Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by his heart, and his friends can only read the title._

- Virginia Woolf

It's not that Severus Snape was gay; it's just that he knew how same-sex loving sorcerers felt. At least, that's what the embittered virgin had been telling himself for the past twenty years without letting anyone else in on his most guarded secret. In truth, the side story with Lily Evans was only part of the equation; he had been using his affection for the deceased witch as a smokescreen to avoid answering questions about his apparently dormant sexuality, and about the true object of his everlasting lust: James Potter. Yet, while Snape did indeed harbour unrequited desire for Prongs, his love for the late wizard was far from uncomplicated and pure. See, James had betrayed Severus in the most baneful of ways and this effectively damaged Snape's self-worth beyond repair. Thus, for all intents and purposes, when it came to carnal matters, Severus Snape was a wizard with a broken wand.

The whole imbroglio began when James and Severus were in their fourth year at Hogwarts. For as long as Snape could remember, Potter had hounded him mercilessly about his shambolic appearance and his recondite sensitivity. Still, all that seemed to change, if only for a few moments in the spring of 1975.

It was a leaden day in early June and Severus had taken to studying for his upcoming Defence Against the Dark Arts exam under a large oak tree near the loch. He had been there but twenty minutes when he noticed a wiry figure in the distance, silhouetted by the cerulean tarn. The mysterious boy stood alone on the shore. Severus furrowed his eyebrows in recognition of the unidentified wizard's solitude. Little did he know at the time that that young man was none other than his arch-nemesis James Potter.

Without quite knowing why, Severus abandoned his books in the undergrowth and went to scrutinize the handsome shape set off against the mere. Squatting in the tall grass bordering the beach, Severus noticed the boy had unruly jet-black hair and a long nose, much like his own. For a moment, Severus could have sworn he was looking at a doppelganger of himself. That was, until the tall wizard turned and Snape saw his puckish countenance. Hazel eyes and a pair of spectacles set him apart from the diffident Slytherin who ogled him.

"Severus Snape," James accosted him, "I could swear you're spying on me. What –"

"But I wasn't," fifteen-year old Severus contended darkly, "I've come to harvest some Gillyweed for Herbology."

"You know very well there's no Gillyweed in this lake," James rejoined, not unkindly.

Severus went red in the face, embarrassed at how obtuse he must look.

"No, you're right," Severus admitted, anxious to discount his façade of stupidity, "I _was_ spying on you."

"But why?" James laughed, "Am I really that interesting?"

Snape rolled his eyes at the pompous Gryffindor.

"Oh, I get it," James snapped angrily, "You're training up to be a Death Eater."

"That is none of your concern!" Severus retorted ashamedly.

"Well, I'd say it certainly does concern me if I'm first on your hit list," James continued on, furiously but not altogether seriously.

"You're not," Severus said shortly, "You're not on it."

James smirked, "So you're saying you have a hit list? And I'm _not_ on it?"

"Yes…and no," Snape whispered shiftily.

"I ought to be, don't you think?" James reasoned queerly, "After the way I've treated you."

"You've tormented me, yes," Severus said softly, "But you don't deserve to die."

James did a double take.

"I'm sorry," Potter said, "I just find it hard to believe that you'd be that merciful."

"It may surprise you to learn that I can be clement…to a select few," Severus replied quietly.

Staggered, James paced back and forth a few times on the rocky shoreline before approaching his neurotic classmate.

"Do you fancy me, Severus?" he whispered timidly in the young sorcerer's ear, "Because if you do…I could arrange a little something."

Snape's black eyes grew wide.

"Prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor, seven o'clock," James murmured temptingly.

"I am not a sodomite!" Severus barked, wiping drool from his thin lips.

"Well," James leered, kissing the scowling wizard on the cheek, "We'll see then, won't we?"

With that, the lanky Gryffindor took off grinning, sprinting across the moorland towards the castle, leaving Severus Snape to muse on his enemy's ribald proposal.

* * *

_Hours later_

Crestfallen, Severus sat on the edge of the Prefects' whirlpool tub, his bony legs dangling in the water. It was ten minutes after seven and James still hadn't showed. He watched the animated stain glass mermaid comb her golden locks and wondered why he didn't covet her seashell-covered bosom. Mortified by his own thoughts, he told himself it didn't matter, as mermaids were devoid of lower limbs and, as such, had no legs to have something between in the first place.

Suddenly, he heard a door open. Feeling unusually dignified he turned around and said expectantly, "James? Is that you? Listen, I've thought about it and I can't –"

"Snivellus? Snivvy-pie? Sorry I'm late, sugar," a feigned effeminate voice piped up from across the room, "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts about our_ secret_ meeting!"

It was Peter Pettigrew, accompanied by Sirius Black.

_Blast_. Potter must have set him up, Snape thought apprehensively. Still, if that were the case, where was he now?

"Where the bloody hell is Potter?" Severus sputtered, trying his best to look intimidating.

"James couldn't make it," Wormtail simpered, "But don't worry, you'll still get what you came for."

In the background, Sirius sniggered at his pal's dirty blow, "Really, Severus, I didn't realize you were a poof."

"My God, Snivvy, you're hung," Pettigrew observed, eyeing the naked Slytherin, "Too bad you'll be on the receiving end tonight."

Severus quickly covered his firm member. He had forgotten that he had shed his clothes earlier to take a bath whilst he waited.

"There's been a misunderstanding," he spoke slowly, edging his way towards the stall where he had placed his clothes, "…I'll catch you lads later."

"How about right now, pretty boy?" Peter cut him off, pinning him against the stone wall, "Oh don't cry _Snivvy_, I'll make it quick. But first, Sirius and I would like to start off with some tossed salad. How about that?"

"Please, don't," Severus shut his eyes, bracing himself to be violated.

"NO!" a new voice thundered from the doorway, "Cut it out, Wormtail! What the hell are you doing to him?!"

It was James Potter.

"I said to rag on him, not shag him you fat prick!" the notorious troublemaker screamed, "Get out! Both of you! Get the fuck out!"

Shocked by their ringleader's unforeseen ire, the would-be rapists scattered.

Snape fell to the floor, his body intact but his spirit broken.

"Severus, I…" James began, taken aback by the iniquity that had just occurred, "You were wrong about me. I deserve to die."

Six years later, Prongs met his maker on a cold October night.

The sallow-skinned boy he left snivelling and broken in the empty fifth-floor lavatory never forgave him, nor forgot him either.


	5. The Diary of a Young Witch

Chapter Five: The Diary of a Young Witch

_Once when I was spending the night at Jacque's, I could no longer restrain my curiosity about her body, which she'd always hidden from me and which I'd never seen. I asked her whether, as proof of our friendship, we could touch each other's breasts. Jacque refused. I also had a terrible desire to kiss her, which I did. Every time I see a female nude, such as the Venus in my art history book, I go into ecstasy. Sometimes I find them so exquisite I have to struggle to hold back my tears. If only I had a girlfriend! _

- Anne Frank

**~ Hermione's Point of View ~**

February 23rd, 1995

Well, I hope Professor Snape is happy. But I'm sure he's probably just gone back to his rooms to down a stiff drink before he outs me to Dumbledore. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, they did.

I'm still here. I truly wish I weren't. If I would have had my way tonight, I'd already be gone.

Instead, I'm here in the Gryffindor common room, sitting by the fire with Harry, Ron and some other boys. The girls won't come near me, as usual. They treat me as if I'm some sort of sex predator.

Cormac McLaggen just asked me again if I'd like to fool around. The boy's absolutely obsessed with me even though he knows I'm not interested. I used to be flattered by his advances but now it's become rather maddening. Especially considering that the person I_ really_ want to sleep with wants nothing to do with me.

Anyway, no one here has any idea how I've spent my evening. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before the whole school knows, though. I suppose I should pack my bags because I'm sure by morning I'll be off to St. Mungo's.

I could really use a Draught of Peace right now but that would mean breaking into Professor Snape's stores to pilfer some hellebore. And the last thing I want is to run into him again or for him to catch me stealing. Then he'd have me expelled for sure. I'd rather die.

Hmm. Funny that. I would be dead right now anyway, if not for _him_.

I suppose I shouldn't be too harsh. He was only doing his job and I was a thorn in his side. God, he seemed flummoxed about the whole affair. Small wonder. What can one really expect from a callous old sleaze? He couldn't know the pain I feel.

***

February 26th, 1995

Nothing. All weekend. I even skipped all my classes on Friday with impunity. That being said, I didn't have Potions. I'm sure Professor Snape wouldn't lose any sleep over giving me detention even if I had missed class to attend my own funeral (as a ghost, of course).

I saw Ginny today in the Great Hall with her friends. She ignored me. I still can't believe this is happening to me. I'm not entirely convinced this isn't all a nightmare that I'll wake up from one day. Sometimes I even wonder if this is my life. Often I suspect that I'm still in my mother's womb and my life hasn't even started yet. Next time I'm born, maybe I won't be gay. I once told Harry that, minus that last bit, and he told me my thought patterns were bordering on delusional. He was probably right. Still, they haven't admitted me to St. Mungo's yet.

I suppose I have Professor Snape to thank for that. God bless you sir, and your cold, uncaring heart.

***

February 27th, 1995

First day back to class after my episode. I told all my professors that I stayed home with a bad case of Scrofungulus on Friday. They were easy enough to fleece. They didn't even ask for a note from Madam Pomfrey. I almost felt guilty lying. But lately, I've stopped caring so much about academics as every day brings me closer to death.

Professor Snape was another story. I've already devoted way too much ink and parchment to that uncouth boor, but here I go again.

Why can't he just mind his own business?

Today in Potions, he was strangely courteous to me but far nastier to Harry than usual. Also, he made Neville cry again. Now that my days are numbered, I ought to report him, but I'm sure that would only result in him reporting me. I'm planning to try again this upcoming Sunday and the last thing I want is that officious brute interfering.

I felt his intense glare as soon as I entered the dim classroom this morning. He immediately approached me before the rest of the students had taken their seats.

"Miss Granger," he said silkily, "I do hope you'll be up to this. We'll be brewing an Elixir to Induce Euphoria this morning and as it is an advanced formula it will require your _undivided_ attention."

"You're not seriously thinking of administering that to me, are you?" I replied tiredly, "I'd rather wallow in my own misery, thank you."

"A woman after my own heart," he remarked snidely and went to rebuke Harry for goofing off with Ron.

Later, he returned to my desk as I was cleaning my cauldron, a vial of the yellow tonic in hand.

"In all seriousness, Miss Granger," he spoke hesitantly, "I do hope you are feeling improved."

"I'm not," I assured him gloomily, "Is that all?"

"I kept my end of the bargain, you realize," he said in a low voice.

"Yes, I realized. Thank you."

"It's not customary," he coughed as two witches walked by, eyeing me… jealously?

I didn't realize Professor Snape was a catch. How would I know?

"What?" I probed him, not understanding what he meant.

"It's not customary for me," he began again, the classroom nearly empty, "To ask my students questions of a personal nature. But would you tell me _specifically_ how you're doing?"

"You want to know if I still want to kill myself."

"Yes," he breathed heavily, evidently exasperated.

I almost betrayed myself right then, but then I remembered I needed to lie.

"I don't. You were right. I want to live," I smiled forcedly, feeling a headache coming on.

And then his face fell, as if he were disappointed he'd have my final exam to mark after all.

***

March 1st, 1995

I wasn't counting on seeing another rainy English March. But here I am.

Today in Divination we were practising Tasseomancy, the art, or should I say, bogus art of predicting future events from staring at the marks left in cups by tealeaves.

I sat next to Alicia Spinnet. She's in sixth-year but she came to take notes for her friend Katie Bell, who is actually a year ahead of me but failed Divination last year. Katie was cutting class to nurse a hangover. At this rate, she'll probably flunk again!

That reminded me I had hoped to bed Katie Bell before I died. That was, of course, an ambition I had set for myself before I got involved with Ginny. I'm not sure if whoever will read this diary after I'm gone will know her, but you need only to take out last year's Hogwarts yearbook from the library to see that she is devastatingly gorgeous. True to her surname (Bell), which is from the French "bel" or "belle", meaning beautiful. Most girls in our year would kill to have her generously proportioned breasts. And I would kill to touch them. God, I _do_ sound like a sex offender. Or at least a horny teenaged boy. At least, that's what I'd have to be to get anywhere near the brown-eyed bombshell. She's as straight as an arrow.

In any case, Alicia read my fortune first. I never did get around to returning the favour, seeing as Professor Trelawney left it to the end of class.

"Let's see," she mused, examining my tealeaves, "I see an Apple."

"What does that mean?" I snapped, annoyed already at the phony reading.

"Well, that's no surprise," the dark-skinned girl smiled, "That means you'll go far in terms of scholastic achievement. A few years from now, you'll graduate from Hogwarts, of course. With several Outstanding O.W.L.'s most likely."

"Why _of course_?" I replied bitingly.

"I don't know," she seemed puzzled by my behaviour, "I mean, you're clearly gifted."

I snorted, "A lot of good that's done me."

"There's a Dog," she continued.

"Where?"

"Right there, in the tea cup," she pointed.

"And?"

"A dog stands for a loyal relative, or friend. You must have somebody watching out for you, who has your back," Alicia elucidated the symbol for me. (And in a rather patronizing fashion, I might add.)

"I mean there's also…" her face turned, as if to portend bad news.

"Let me guess. The Grim?"

"No," she said, and that's when I knew for certain the whole reading was flawed!

I rolled my eyes.

"Forget that," she continued on, "There's also a candle."

I stared blankly at her.

"Enlightenment," she beamed, "Hermione, all things considered…"

She looked down at the tealeaf patterns tentatively.

"…I've read a lot of fortunes. I mean, I've done this class before and I've done loads of readings for my mates and…I've never seen a future so bright."

_You're wrong_, I thought.

"That's nice," I replied, more sardonically than I had intended.

"Now," she said in a soft voice, "Open the heart."

"There's a _heart _in there too?" I groaned. Would this ever end?

"No, not yet, anyway," she corrected me, "Open the heart. It's an Arabic tradition. Place your right thumb at the inside bottom of the cup and turn it clockwise…just so."

She guided my hand through the odd procedure, and then scrutinized the shape it had made.

"I take it you're not too favourably impressed," Alicia ventured, frowning.

_That_ she was right about.

***

March 2nd, 1995

Good evening, Thanatos.

I cut myself today. I certainly never thought I'd write those words in this diary. My father bought it for me for my thirteenth birthday. Now it's stained with my blood. I am full of shame.

Professor Snape gave me detention for the rest of the week for my bad attitude in his class. He probably wants me for his personal house-elf considering the favour he's doing for me. He seems like the slave-master type.

But that's not why I cut myself. Although it did make me cry when he yelled at me in front of everybody. Draco Malfoy joked that I had fallen out of his good graces because he found out I was a dyke and wouldn't put out for him. Earlier in the week, the rumour circulating was that I was sleeping with Snape because he reminded me of a girl (what with his long hair …um greasy! Ew.) Professor Snape is so uncool; he likely has no idea people thought this. And, as usual, he didn't hear what Draco said today. I doubt he'd stand up for me anyhow. Nobody has ever stood up for me. Well, except for that girl who stood up for me in second year when Draco Malfoy called me a Mudblood. But I forget her name.

I cut myself because… I tried to talk to my parents about Ginny and they didn't want to hear any of it.

"We don't want to hear about your choice of lifestyle!" my mother's Howler still echoes in my head, "Of course Ginny doesn't want to_ be_ with you. She's a GIRL. Hermione, you are NOT a lesbian. If you don't take young Cormac up on his offer, don't bother coming home for Easter. I've heard enough of your whining about having no one to date when you've got boys lining up at your carrell! Such foolishness!"

I can't believe I actually thought Alicia's prophecy about a supportive relative might be true.

Not only am I depressed, I'm getting dumber too.

Four more days and this will all be over.

To think that right now I'm dreading my upcoming detention with Snape.

I'm due in the dungeons in ten minutes.

***

**A/N** – _Thank you for all your reviews so far, minus the one left by my younger brother, which I'm sure doesn't make sense to anybody else. :P I was mortified when I found out he'd been going through my Fan Fiction (it is my guilty pleasure after all) and temporarily deleted my story this afternoon in a paroxysm of embarrassment. But in the end, I decided it was worth it despite the risk of family members stumbling upon it. Apologies for any inconveniences this brief interruption and rapid re-posting may have caused, especially to my subscribers!_

_I look forward to your feedback! _

_Merry Christmas._


	6. My Childhood Home I See Again

Chapter Six: My Childhood Home I See Again

_Hell? What is hell to one like me  
Who pleasures never know;  
By friends consigned to misery,  
By hope deserted too?  
_

*

_It is neither a joke nor a story  
For Reuben and Charles have married two girls,  
But Billy has married a boy_

_- _Abraham Lincoln

"Bollocks to this! I can't believe Snape even gave you detention for being in a strop. Kind of hypocritical don't you think? Snape's the king of crabbiness," Ron Weasley baulked at leaving his vulnerable friend at the doorway of Hogwarts' most dodgy professor.

"Are you sure you're all right to go in there, Hermione?" Harry Potter queried the demoralized witch as they stood outside Snape's classroom, "If you'd like, I have some leftover Polyjuice Potion…I reckon I could metamorphose into you long enough to serve your detention."

_Tempting_, Hermione thought agitatedly.

"Maybe another time," she decided petulantly, "I've got several detentions to serve. I might as well get the first one over with."

"Well, good luck then," Harry offered edgily, "See you after."

"Bye, Harry."

"Abyssinia, babe!" Ron imitated Cormac gallingly.

"Sod off, Ron," the vexed witch groaned, turning to enter Snape's dungeon laboratory.

The last thing she needed was another male suitor. At least Harry was content just to be friends.

*

"You're late," the Potions Master greeted her coldly, "I've got cauldrons that need scouring."

Oddly dismayed by this aloof reception, Hermione stood and stared.

"Shake a leg, Granger," Snape nagged, "We haven't got all night."

_You're going to make me cry again, you browbeating slummock!_ she thought wretchedly as she set to work, eager to temper Severus' trademark cruelty.

"No magic," he stipulated indifferently.

Hermione put down her wand and picked up a rag.

Seemingly bored, Snape left the room without so much as a fleeting promise of his return.

Unsupervised, Hermione continued to toil away, scrubbing the pots harder than ever, determined to finish her detention early so she could spend the rest of the evening brooding by the common room fire. As she cleaned, she began to sob as thoughts of Ginny invaded her consciousness. Polluted water dampened her rainbow-striped cardigan. She rolled up her sleeves and took in a lungful of frigid dungeon air.

When Severus finally did return, the witch was gutted.

"Miss Granger," the Potions Master sighed as his student quickly tried to dry her tears, "We can't go on like this."

"I know," Hermione shuddered.

"I frighten you," Snape observed.

"I'm cold," the shivering girl corrected him.

Without speaking, Severus took off his cloak and offered it to Hermione.

"I can't believe you just did that," she tittered through her tears, "We're not on a date."

"Well, I'm not going to put it on for you," Snape's lips twitched good-humouredly, "Here."

Hermione hesitated, then reached out and took the black robe. Redolent of asphodel and valerian, the worn fabric felt soft between her hands.

"You know what's funny? Earlier this week, the hottest gossip was that we were caught up in some mixed orientation sex scandal," she laughed nervously.

Snape wasn't laughing.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that, sir," Hermione promptly apologized, "It was inappropriate."

"No, that was quite comical actually," Severus acknowledged earnestly, "But Miss Granger, your wrists…"

Mortified, Hermione quickly pulled down her cardigan sleeves, covering her self-inflicted wounds.

"What happened?" Severus inquired in a calm, albeit concerned voice.

"I'm so embarrassed," Hermione cried, wishing she could apparate out of the room.

Snape opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't waste your breath," the panic-stricken girl cut him off, "It wasn't Harry, or Ron, or Millicent. No boy or girl did this to me. I did it to myself, ok?"

"I know… that," Severus replied with a twinge of empathy, "But what happened to make you…?"

"My parents," Hermione whispered pitifully, "They hate me."

_How is that even possible?_ Snape wondered, knitting his brows. Most parents would be only too pleased to have an insufferable know-it-all as a daughter.

"My mother says I can't be gay," she explained, avoiding Severus' intense gaze, "She says I can't come home for Easter unless I deign to shag Cormac McLaggen."

"She's barking," Snape huffed, "McLaggen's a fiendish yob."

"He's not that bad," Hermione conceded, "But I don't want to shag him."

"Wouldn't your mother be relieved that you aren't consorting with sex-crazed teenaged boys?" Severus mused aloud, still gobsmacked that Granger wasn't welcome at home simply because she didn't like dick.

"I know, right?" the witch nodded gratefully, "But honestly, my parents are so desperate for me to be straight that they'd rather have me hook up with Lord Voldemort than a girl in my year."

"So your father agrees?" Snape noted soberly, ignoring the gratuitous reference to the Dark Lord.

"My father hasn't spoken to me in six months. But I gather he thinks I'm crass for coming out."

"That's ludicrous," Severus shook his head.

"Yes, but it's true," Hermione insisted, pulling Snape's cloak tighter around her shoulders, "Ever since I told him how I felt about Ginny, he's been freezing me out. He can't stand me. I can tell."

Severus took a moment to think about his own father's ignominious neglect. Afterwards, he felt a visceral urge to take the mistreated girl in his arms, but held back.

"Miss Granger, what can I say? You have dolts for parents."

"No wonder I'm so stupid," she deduced without pretense.

"You are not stupid!" Snape intoned, "You're first in your year. That's no small feat."

"I'm failing Potions."

"You are not," he countered, annoyed, "You have the best mark in the class."

"I do?" Hermione was genuinely surprised, "But I botched that last assignment."

"You did, yes," Snape admitted, "Along with the rest of your classmates. I'm not counting the grade. Is that of any consolation to you?"

The witch shook her head, subdued by renewed tears.

"I didn't think it would be," he sighed knowingly, "You're beyond that, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, shattered.

"Your detention has concluded for this evening," Snape announced, glancing at the hourglass, "You're due back here tomorrow, understand?"

"Understood," Hermione said dispassionately, turning to go.

"My robes, Miss Granger."

"Oh, right," the schoolgirl flushed, shedding the garment and returning it to her professor, "Here. Sorry."

"No need to apologize. I just didn't want to be responsible for perpetuating the rumour of our…involvement," Severus prodded her teasingly.

"Right. Of course," Hermione concurred, discomfited by Snape's almost friendly manner, "See you tomorrow, sir."

"Goodbye," he bade her farewell curtly but gently.

*

Hermione didn't know it then, but she wouldn't be back as promised.

By sundown Friday, she would have other plans.

Snape's cauldrons would still be immaculate by the weekend, though.

Compliments of Harry Potter.


	7. Imitation of Life

Chapter Seven: Imitation of Life

_Like a koi in a frozen pond.  
Like a goldfish in a bowl.  
I don't want to hear you cry._

(…)

_Like a Friday fashion show teenager  
Freezing in the corner  
Trying to look like you don't try._

- Michael Stipe

"Blimey, Hermione! I haven't seen you this happy in a long time," Ron exclaimed, "But you seem a tad woozy. Are you sure you haven't_ taken_ anything?"

"What, like marijuana?" the giddy witch snorted, tweaking her friend's nose, "Nope, haven't had any weed since the grass brownies my loony Great Uncle Will served us last Christmas. He's lucky Mum and Dad didn't disown him! Ha-ha!"

"Marijuana? What the bloody hell is that? You muggle-borns confuse me sometimes," Ron was perplexed, "No, I was thinking something more along the lines of a draught or…"

"An Elixir to Induce Euphoria," Harry jumped in, holding up the nearly empty vial, its interior coated in sunshine-yellow residue, "You took this, didn't you? Hermione?"

"I can show you the world! Shining, shimmering, splendid! Tell me princess, now when did you last let your heart decide?" the teenaged girl sang playfully.

"Hmm. I'd say she's pretty much sloshed off this brew we made in Potions," Harry concluded, "There's no way we can let her go to detention with Professor Snape like this. He'll shit bricks if she starts singing him love songs and pinching his nose."

"We'd be lucky to see her again alive," Ron grunted, "If you were serious about that Polyjuice Potion stunt, maybe tonight would be a good time to do it."

"Right," Harry said casually, trying his best not to appear too enthusiastic about sporting a skirt and sprouting breast buds, "Hermione, can you go snag me a spare girl's Hogwarts uniform?"

"Yep! Yep! Yep!" she beamed, skipping up the stairs.

"A girl's uniform, mate? You're going all out," Ron remarked, mildly amused, "You know, you'd still look like Hermione in a boy's uniform. She can dress in drag, can't she? She's lesbian, after all."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean –" Harry snapped, then caught himself, "I mean, I just want to make sure Snape doesn't become suspicious at all."

"Uh, good call," Ron approved hesitantly, thinking _God I'm glad it isn't me_.

Before long, the transformation was complete. Harry looked at himself in the mirror. He'd never admit it to anybody, but he liked the way Hermione's skirt swished against his slender legs as he moved back and forth, admiring his new look.

"You're absolutely fetching in that dress!" Hermione said ecstatically to her twin, "If I do say so, myself."

"I'd shag you," Ron panted unthinkingly.

"So would I!" Hermione shrieked orgasmically.

"All right then," Ron caught himself, remembering it was really Harry who was standing before him, "Good luck with Snape."

"What a terrific idea you had, Harry!" Hermione smiled goofily as she tweaked Harry's nose, "Brill."

"Thanks," Harry swallowed, fixing his newly long, undulating hair.

*

"You're early," the Potions Master remarked, startled by the premature arrival of his usually tardy student, "I wasn't expecting you for another half hour."

"Oh," Harry scrambled, "Sorry. I must have mixed up the times."

"No, Miss Granger…" Severus spoke silkily.

_Oh great_, Harry thought. _I must've bought Hermione another week of detention_.

"There is no need to apologize. Perhaps I am mistaken as to the hour I instructed you to arrive. Your detention last night did end rather…abruptly. It was imprudent of me… I have not been myself lately."

_You're quite bloody right_! Harry did a double take, _Since when did Snape admit fault?_

"Then again, you haven't been yourself lately either, have you, Miss Granger?"

_Fuck. He's found me out_, Harry grimaced, meeting Severus' hard stare sheepishly.

*

"Oh what a night!" Hermione exclaimed, starry-eyed.

"Late December back in 63…what a very special time for me," Ron muttered subconsciously.

"I want more of this, Ron," she shook the empty vial of elixir in front of her friend's weary face.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Hermione, but I tossed mine in the trash on the way out of Snape's classroom. And now I see why. WOULD YOU STOP TWEAKING MY NOSE! Bloody hell."

"Well, then I'll go retrieve it!" Hermione squealed.

"Oh no you won't _go retrieve it_!" Ron bellowed, "Harry's in Snape's classroom right now, serving YOUR detention, dressed as you! If you go in there you'll blow his and your cover. You can't."

"Quite right," Hermione said thoughtfully, the potion beginning to wear off, "I'll pinch some left-overs from Snape's stores instead. Want to come along?"

"Why yes," Ron swooned ironically, "No. You go on. Enjoy yourself."

*

"What gave me away?" Harry faltered.

"I wasn't born yesterday, Miss Granger. Hmm. Let me see. Your attempted suicide, perhaps? Your cuts, on your wrists? You're clinically depressed. It's obvious. Forgive me for being so… indelicate."

_What the_…? Harry was dumbstruck. He rolled up Hermione's sweater sleeves, running his hands over the gory constellation of scars. _Hermione…what have you done? Why would you do this to yourself?_

"I had no idea," Harry whispered.

"You had no idea of what, Miss Granger?"

"I mean…does everyone know?"

"I wouldn't bet on it. Potter and Weasley are far too thick to catch on, I would imagine," Severus offered disdainfully.

"I reckon you're right," Harry acknowledged painfully, "Potter's a bit of a tosser, really."

That made Snape smirk. Harry glowered.

"Yes. He's sharper than Weasley, though, I have to admit…" Severus added, pensively.

Harry's heart lept, despite himself.

"Still, you're quite right Miss Granger. The boy is rather… intellectually challenged."

_You greasy git_! Harry looked daggers at the sneering dark wizard.

"I was not aware that you shared my views on Potter, Miss Granger. Before I knew of your…sapphic inclinations I thought he was your beau. To be honest, that's why I treated you with such contempt…before."

"I don't have a… beau," Harry stammered.

"No, of course don't," Snape replied softly, "Why don't you set to work, Miss Granger? If you finish early, you can leave."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're quite welcome."

_Since when was Snape half-civil?_ Harry wondered.

"Besides, I have better things to do than to supervise menial work," Snape rejoined snidely, "Kindly finish the pots tonight, would you Granger? Tomorrow evening you'll be rinsing the vials."

_Poor Hermione_, Harry corrected his thinking, _This vile brute is using her as his personal servant_.

"You do want to get out early, don't you, Miss Granger?"

"Definitely."

"Well then, make haste, my sweet."

_His…sweet?_

_Since when did Snape use terms of endearment?_

*

"Hypnotizing, mesmerizing me. She was everything I dreamed she'd be. Sweet surrender, what a night!" Hermione chimed on her last euphoric high.

Then, as she turned the corner to the hallway Snape's storeroom was, she couldn't believe her eyes. Then again, she could. Typical.

Katie Bell. Katie Bell had broken into Snape's stores ahead of her. Sitting on the floor with the storage room door wide open, the witch was imbibing some Girding Potion.

"What's that for?" Hermione queried.

"One would think you'd know, Miss… Know-It-All. Alicia told me she told you I was flunking Divination again. I'm staying up to write my paper. I suppose you've already finished your own."

"No," Hermione answered surprisingly, "Actually, I haven't."

"Oh really? Don't know why I'm doing this then," Katie snorted, "I must be out of my tree."

"Not even," Hermione smiled, standing in the storeroom doorway, "But since you'll be up for awhile, will you help me to steal a draught or two?"

"Sure, why not… I guess," Katie shrugged her shoulders noncommittally, following Hermione into the tiny room, "A draught of what?"

"An….Invigoration Draught."

"An Invigoration Draught? Wish I'd thought of that. That might've been better than the Girding Potion."

Hermione climbed Snape's ladder to look for a batch of Elixir to Induce Euphoria.

"Do you see any?" Katie asked, "Do you mind if I have some too?"

Then Hermione saw _it_. Not an Elixir to Induce Euphoria or an Invigoration Draught but…Amortentia.

Under normal circumstances, she knew she really shouldn't but...

Hermione emptied some of the pink potion into an unmarked vial and then made her way down the ladder.

"Here you go, Katie," Hermione winked daringly, offering up the love potion, "Drink up."

"Wait," Katie paused warily, "You're not making a move on me, are you? I've heard you're a…lesbian."

"Of course not. Didn't you hear I'm shagging Professor Snape now?"

"Oh, you are? Yes, I think did hear something about that too… now that you mention it. So you're straight then?" Katie downed the frothing beverage unthinkingly.

Hermione took the empty vial from her fellow Gryffindor and set it aside.

"As straight as you are," the mischievous witch replied.

*

"Potter's never hurt you, has he?" Snape suddenly wondered aloud as he watched Hermione's Polyjuice lookalike scrub away at the most soiled pot of the bunch.

"Hurt me?" Harry looked for clarification.

"Teased you? Hit you? Taken advantage –"

"Of course not, you sick bloke!" Harry was furious that Snape would suggest such a thing.

Severus was startled by Hermione's sudden reproof.

"Why do you hate m… uh, him so much anyway?" Harry inquired hastily.

"I don't," Snape began rashly, "hate him, exactly. He's a thorn in my side, granted. But considering what his father was like when he was alive, Pott…Har… _the boy_ is not as bothersome to me as he might have been."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry was vexed.

"Well, his father and I didn't get on. And I am **not **saying anything further on that count, do you understand? But the boy, he's just so…pathetic. He's insufferable, yes, but I find it hard to loathe someone so…vulnerable. _Why_ am I even telling you this?"

"You opened up this can of worms, remember?" Harry rebuked him, "When you suggested my best friend was a rapist."

"I suggested no such thing!" Snape was offended.

"Yes, you did, when you asked if he'd taken advantage-"

"I didn't mean it that way."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't!" Snape's voice went up an octave.

And then, lowering his head and closing his eyes resignedly, conceded: "Potter isn't a rapist and I never presumed he was. Happy?"

_Absolutely and positively gay_, Harry grinned, leaning in for the kiss.

*

Hermione sighed. The love potion hadn't appeared to have the desired effect. After she had administered it to the daft brunette, the girl had just taken to standing there in a daze.

"Well then," the once again depressed witch sighed, "I guess I'll be off. I don't want to be caught out of bed after hours."

She didn't even bother to pilfer any elixir. Her failed attempt to seduce Katie Bell had robbed her of any remaining sense of adventure she might have had. Defeated, she left the preoccupied witch in Snape's stores and started for the Gryffindor common room.

"Not so quick, Miss Hermione Granger," Katie unexpectedly pinned the astonished witch against the wall and kissed her forcibly.

"I thought you'd never come 'round," Hermione breathed, highly aroused.

"Don't be silly, love. How could I swing any other way?" Katie whispered alluringly, dragging her catch into Snape's stores and closing the door behind them.

*

His eyes still closed, Severus felt a pair of pubescent lips lock with his. _Merlin's beard!_ Hermione Granger was snogging him! A _**student**_ was snogging him! This was unprecedented. And highly inappropriate!

After wrenching the fourth-year off him, Snape opened his eyes.

"Damn it! POTTER?!"

Harry froze. The jig was up.

"Well, don't just stand there like a deer caught in headlights! Explain yourself! What are you doing here serving Miss Granger's detention? Whilst…whilst throwing yourself at me? What, are you trying to get me sacked? Potter? Say something!"

"I…I'm sorry," the dejected boy whimpered.

_Please say there's no need to apologize_, he prayed.

"You're sorry!" Snape spat, visibly irate, "How about telling me who put you up to this? Was it Sirius Black, that scoundrel?! Or Dumbledore, even, that inexorable –"

"It was all my doing, sir," Harry interrupted, "See, Hermione was a bit…flighty this evening. In short, she took some of that Elixir to Induce Euphoria we brewed in your class the other day, and as a personal favour, I –"

"But that hardly explains your…unsolicited advances!" Snape sounded flustered, "You go on and on about not being a rapist, well if that kiss had gone any further…"

"I'm not a rapist! Or some…other sort of creep!" Harry cried, "Look, it was a joke gone wrong, ok? You're partly right. I was up to no good. Go on, say it. I'm unruly and rude, just like my dad."

Seething, the Potions Master eyed the disruptive, dejected boy in the skirt and nylons across the room. _So arrogant. So weak. _Something inside Snape broke.

"Get. Out." Severus uttered darkly.

"NO! You can't kick me out. I've behaved badly… I ought to serve this detention after all," Harry tried desperately to stand his ground and continue polishing the already spotless wares.

"I haven't assigned you detention, Potter. Leave my classroom at once."

"I can't do it," Harry's shoulders rose and fell sharply, as if with a tortured sob.

"Can't. Do. What?" Snape intoned dangerously.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't live this anymore," the green-eyed boy looked up at Severus, "This lie."

"Ingenious resolution. Why don't you start with me? Stop LYING and tell me WHY in the Dark Lord's name you're here!" the professor commanded stormily.

"I can't explain it. Can't explain why it is –"

"Oh, please. Save me the theatrics, Potter."

"Fine."

"Good. Out with it."

"I love you."

Snape stared.

"I love you, _sir_?"

This was far too much. Severus picked the undernourished teen up and threw him into the dungeon corridor.

"No, please!" Harry begged, "I'll swear to it!"

Disgraced, the Potions Master returned to his study. In the privacy of his rooms, the tears flowed freely once more.

*

"I was never gonna be the same," Hermione crooned of her own accord, snuggling next to Katie Bell on the floor of the potions storeroom, "What a lady! What a night!"


	8. The Never Ending Why

* A/N - _**The following chapter is very disturbing. Reader discretion is advised.**_

Chapter Eight – The Never-Ending Why

_The sound of silence grows  
As spiders kissing fly  
And the tumor becomes a rhyme  
But the kids are doing fine_

(…)

_Time will help you through  
But it doesn't have the time  
To give you all the answers to the never-ending why_

- Stefan Olsdal, Placebo

"Katie, where the hell were you last night?" Alicia inquired crossly, putting down her mug of pumpkin juice, "I was worried sick. I sat up in the Common Room until 3 AM waiting for you to come back from the dungeons. Snape didn't catch you trying to steal from his stores, did he?"

"No, of course not," Katie rolled her eyes sheepishly, "I was with his ex-girlfriend, Hermione Granger. And we made love! And it was enthralling! Are you jealous?"

"AM I JEALOUS?" Alicia went red, "What do you mean you "made love" to Hermione Granger? Since when are you even gay?"

"That's gross," Parvati Patil grimaced, putting down her fork, "You had sex with another girl? And with Hermione Granger, yet? Just to let you know, she gets around. Rumour has it she's shagged Snape. Personally, I think that's a tall tale but I wouldn't be surprised if she and Madam Hooch-"

"OK, now that's just sickening, Parvati," Seamus Finnigan cut in, "We're trying to eat breakfast, here."

"She has a point though. Everyone knows Hooch is probably a rug-muncher," Padma took up for her twin.

"But Hermione doesn't have eyes for anybody but me!" Katie argued passionately.

"What about Ginny, though? Didn't those two used to be…close?" Cormac McLaggen mused, inching his chair closer to the table to conceal his hard-on, "Ginny always seemed to me to be –"

"I always seemed to you to be what?" Ginny spat, returning from the lavatory and sitting down next to Cormac, "Is this how it is? I leave the table for one moment and you start talking about me behind my back?"

"Actually, Katie Bell has won out for newsmaker of the hour," Cormac grinned, "She'll tell you all about it herself, I'm sure."

By this time, Katie's love potion had begun to wear off, and she had taken to sitting silently with a look of sheer confusion on her face.

Unable to contain himself, Cormac blurt out, "Katie banged Hermione last night in Snape's storage room!"

"No she didn't," Ginny sneered, "You're such a perv, Cormac."

"But she did!" Cormac protested heatedly, "She told us so, herself."

"It's true, Gin," Padma curled up her nose, "Hermione has converted Katie to lesbianism."

"That's vile," Ginny said flatly.

"She used a love potion, I think," Katie mentioned soberly, "Oh my God. Wow… Even so-"

"Did I just hear that right?" Draco Malfoy interrupted her, coming up behind Cormac and Ginny, "That dyke Granger fed you a love potion and then fucked you?"

"Well, actually, as I remember it, it was my idea…" Katie continued on.

"You were under the influence though!" Ginny shook her head.

"That's date rape, that is!" Seamus said furiously, "I'd like to pound her face in."

"For once, Finnigan, we agree," Draco proclaimed coolly, "Time to give Granger a taste of her own medicine."

*

When Harry Potter awoke in the dungeon corridor the next morning, he was surprised to find that someone had covered him with a rough grey blanket. Good thing, too. Because he was still dressed in drag, and Slytherins, as a rule, weren't too understanding of that sort of thing.

"I've been looking all over for you!" Hermione cried rushing to his side, "Snape didn't keep you here all night did he?"

"No, he kicked me out of his rooms after the Polyjuice Potion wore off," Harry explained contritely, "Sorry, I guess that batch I had was a bit old. I really thought it would last long enough. You haven't seen him today, have you? Snape?"

"Thank goodness I haven't! He'll be rather irate I skipped detention, don't you think?" Hermione gave a weak laugh, "Not to mention that I spent the night sleeping in his stores. In fact, I just came from there."

"What? Why were you sleeping in his stores?"

"Well, why did you sleep outside his classroom?"

Harry swallowed uneasily, not sure he could be completely honest with Hermione.

"You still haven't answered my question, though."

"Fine, if you really want to know, last night I did something terribly stupid. It was unforgiveable, really. I gave Katie Bell a dose of love potion and we fooled around a bit."

"Hmm. While we're on that topic then, I did something stupid last night too," Harry ventured, far more interested in discussing his own exploits, "with Professor Snape."

"You WHAT? Not while you were still _me_, though, right?" Hermione blinked incredulously.

"Course not," Harry said quickly, "I wouldn't do that to you, Hermione. Plus, I just kissed him. He didn't like it that much. We didn't fool around like you and -"

"OK, wait, so you kissed him? What, for a joke or something?"

"No," Harry whispered, "It wasn't a joke. Promise not to laugh?"

"Promise," Hermione assured him kindly, "I won't tell a soul."

"For the longest time, I've wondered what my life might have been like if I were a girl," Harry explained in a low voice, "Always thought it might've been easier. It's not that I'm transgendered or anything, it's just that…see…if I were a girl, I thought, maybe I wouldn't have gotten the short end of the stick all the time when I lived with the Dursley's. Maybe the Slytherins wouldn't treat me so cruelly. Or perhaps Dumbledore wouldn't expect so much of me. And Professor Snape, especially… If I were a girl, I can't imagine he'd treat me the way he does now. He told me last night he didn't get on with my father. And apparently I'm the spitting image of him. No wonder he hates me."

"I don't think he hates you," Hermione still sounded uncertain.

"That's what he said. But I don't believe him," Harry sighed.

"Wait, so…you _like_ Snape? And you want Snape to like you?"

Harry blushed, "I've never felt this way about another guy before, Hermione. And maybe I never will again. Call it gay, homosexual…call it what you like. But that's not the way I see it… because it's only ever been him. Snape. It's always been Snape. Whenever we lock eyes it's…hard to explain. This feeling…it won't go away. I know I called you barmy when you came talking to me about Ginny and wanting to live your life over again, and I'm sorry because I know what I'm saying right now must sound ten times more crazy."

"It's not-"

"What do we have here?" a menacing voice echoed in the corridor, "The school muff diver, and Potter the Pansy. And a…blanket! A quickie before class, I gather?"

Harry grabbed his wand and stood up abruptly.

Draco cackled hysterically, "I guess we know who wears the pants in this relationship. Honestly, Potter, I always knew you were a bit camp but I didn't realize you were a Nancy Boy."

"Petrificulus T-"

"Expelliarmus!"

Disarmed, Harry positioned himself protectively in front of Hermione. The witch took his unusually small hand in hers and gave it a supportive squeeze.

"A bit of foreplay, I see," Malfoy remarked, amused, "Do carry on. Mobilicorpus!"

Draco took over Harry's body, causing him to fondle Hermione's bosom.

"Stop it!" Hermione screamed, at first at Harry and then at Draco, "This isn't right!"

"Strange you should think that," another voice chimed in, that of Seamus Finnigan, "You didn't seem to lose any sleep over lacing Katie Bell's pumpkin juice with love potion and having your way with her."

"I'm sorry, OK? I shouldn't have done that. I was selfish and sad. I wanted to die. I still want-"

"Mobilicorpus!" Seamus joined in, turning Hermione into his own puppet.

"Engorgio!" Draco upped the ante, painfully enlarging Harry's member until it protruded through his skirt.

"I still want to die," Hermione shrieked, "I want to die now more than ever. Please, just kill me. Kill me now, Draco."

"Sorry, this is much more fun," Malfoy smirked evilly, enjoying himself, "Now let's see if lesbians really don't enjoy co-"

"What the hell are you guys doing?" Ginny Weasley appeared from behind them, clearly disturbed by what she was seeing, "We said to teach her a lesson, not molest her!"

Hermione's eyes widened with a surge of hope.

"Goyle, we need back-up!" Draco called, and his sidekick lumbered over from the shadows.

"Take care of Weasley, would you?"

"You can't do this!" Ginny protested wildly, "Why would you? I haven't done anything wrong! This is for your own sick pleasure!"

"A little girl-on-girl would be a nice touch, Finnigan. Would you do the honours?" Draco commissioned his new friend to deflower the redhead.

"I will never forgive you, Hermione Granger," Ginny said solemnly, looking her former sweetheart in the eye, "How dare you put me in this situation? I will never forgive you if you touch me."

"I'd drop dead if I could," Hermione whimpered as she fell to her knees to perform the deed.

"Dyke! You're a filthy dyke, Hermione Granger. And I just hate you!" Ginny screeched orgasmically, "Fuck you! I never want to see your face again. I never loved you. I never even liked you! I hope you die. I hope Malfoy kills you like you asked him to. You deserve it! Mudblood bitch!"

Of all the sights that he had seen, Severus Snape would later admit to himself that this was by far the most harrowing. When he first happened upon the baneful scene on his way back from the Great Hall, pure instinct took over. There was no time for raw flashbacks or tear-filled angst. He immobilized the teenaged rapists, sent an express owl to the authorities. He didn't even bother to notify Dumbledore. There was no time for small chat or lemon drops. Once the young criminals were escorted out and swiftly incarcerated, he lifted the three victims to the hospital wing. And when Madam Pomfrey wasn't looking, he cast an Obliviate spell on them to wash away the day, so that they wouldn't spend every sleepless night of their adult life trying, in vain, to forget.

He would never envy them that luxury.

*

"I see, Severus," Albus mused, once Snape had confided in him afterwards, "You wouldn't wish that on anybody. Not even – him."

"Yes, Headmaster. Not even him."

_Especially not him_, Severus thought, the image of the defenseless boy in the navy skirt ingrained in his mind.

"As I understand Severus, you've become Miss Granger's confidante. If I could make a request –"

Snape nodded.

"Please take care not to be so harsh with these children in these troubled times, Severus. They may not remember details, but the scars will remain, deep within. You, of all people, should know that it's understanding they need, now more than ever."

_What the bloody hell did that mean?_

"Severus," Dumbledore said softly, "I know it's not Lily you loved."

"But I did love Lily," Severus spoke emphatically.

"No, forgive me, I know you loved her, Severus. But she's not the one you wanted."

_How dare he? Impudent._

"James hurt you, Severus," Albus put his hand on his former student's shoulder, "I know."

"You don't know the half of it," Snape scowled, horrified that he was having this conversation, "Potter never laid a hand on me. He only -"

"I know," Dumbledore intoned quietly.

"But these children – they've been through worse."

"So you'll do right by them, Severus? From this moment forward?"

Offended, Snape looked up at the headmaster, tears in his fierce onyx eyes.

"Always."


	9. Against the Odds

Chapter Nine – Against the Odds

_Since then my life has been hell, hell, hell. My mind is gone – everything in the world I lived for has gone – the world has gone mad. I shall be driven to end my life. Oh God, forgive me. Nobody dreams what my awful position is._

*

_Well, I've always heard that pity was akin to love. We'll see what comes of this._

- L.M. Montgomery

Ginny. Ginny was gone.

Hermione awoke in the hospital wing and realized the cot next to her own was now vacant. It was early morning and the late winter sun had just then begun to filter in through the stained glass windows. On the other side of the room, Harry snored loudly, in the grips of a deep and tumultuous slumber.

Acute panic seized the young witch upon realizing her beloved had gone missing.

"Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey!" she cried feverishly, "Come quick! Hurry! Oh please!"

"What is it child?" the Matron asked as she rushed to Hermione's bedside, almost exasperatedly, as if for the hundredth time.

"Ginny is missing! She was there last night when I fell asleep, and now she's gone!" the fifteen-year old girl sobbed.

"Your friend has not been kidnapped, my dear. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came late last night to take Ginny home. She won't be coming back to Hogwarts, I'm afraid."

"Why ever not?" Hermione cried incredulously.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that," Poppy fretted, "Now do go back to sleep. You need your rest. You've been through a great ordeal."

"And what kind of great ordeal is that exactly?" the fourth-year was hysterical, "I went to sleep Friday night, only to wake up here on Saturday evening. What happened to me yesterday, pray tell?"

"I can't say, Miss Granger. Please, don't make me say it again. Calm yourself."

"Calm myself? CALM MYSELF?" Hermione was hyperventilating, "How can you say that? I'm only fifteen years old and I can't account for my activities yesterday. Premature memory loss? I don't think so. Now, who was the genius who cast an Obliviate spell on me?"

"He's right here," a low, melancholy voice issued from the doorway, "Pardon my intrusion, Poppy. I thought I might check on a few of your patients."

"That's quite all right, Severus," Madam Pomfrey sounded relieved, "Although, overnight "a few" has turned into a couple. Miss Granger and Mister Potter are the only patients left in the ward. Miss Weasley's parents have withdrawn her from Hogwarts. I'm not sure if Albus told you."

"No, I hadn't heard," Severus spoke in measured tones, catching Hermione's eye as she sat, disconsolate, on her bed, "What seems to be the problem here?"

"The poor girl, she keeps asking me what happened to her yesterday," Poppy whispered, "Don't worry, I haven't told her…not that I know any details. Although there have been rumours –"

"I'll take it from here, Poppy," Snape sighed, "If you might give the two of us some privacy."

Madam Pomfrey smiled knowingly. Apparently the urban legend of Severus and Hermione's involvement had also reached her ears.

"You do realize that Potter is still sleeping, Severus. If you might keep the noise to a minimum…"

Snape rolled his eyes, realizing his faux-pas. He couldn't be bothered to dignify her false assumption with a rebuttal, though.

"All right, then, I take my leave," Madam Pomfrey stopped fussing and summarily left for breakfast in the Great Hall.

"Why?" Hermione asked the Potions Master quietly, "Why did you do it?"

Severus remained silent for a moment, not knowing quite what to say. It was best, he thought, that the witch know as little as possible about the debauchery of the day before. Still, he had grown accustomed to speaking to the shrewd girl like an adult and found it difficult to lie to her. At the same time, she was still so very young and in need of protection. He sat on the cot next to his morose student.

"Do you trust me, Miss Granger?"

"I…I suppose I do," Hermione admitted, "But I fail to see the merit in wiping my memory, even if it was for a day. Don't you think I'm old enough to learn from my own mistakes?"

"It was nothing you did," Severus said rashly.

"Then what happened to me, for God's sakes? And why is Ginny gone? Did I use the love potion on her too? Something seems wrong, professor. Something seems very, very wrong. I feel horrible. Simply horrible. You know I broke into your stores on Friday night and gave a dose of Amortentia to Katie Bell? Then she asked me to sleep with her…and you know what, I did! That's illegal, isn't it? I'm going to Azkaban for that, aren't I? I'm a sexual deviant now," the witch deduced sorrowfully, "You don't have to sugarcoat it for me, I can take it."

"Have I ever been one to sugarcoat anything, Miss Granger?" Snape asked, half-amused.

"No, I suppose not," Hermione reflected, "So give it to me straight."

Despite himself, the Potions Master's lips twitched.

"First and foremost, having sexual intercourse with someone under the influence of Amortentia is not a criminal offence in the wizarding world. The Minister for Magic would never stand for that, his trysts with his female secretaries rely on its continued permissibility. In any case, it wouldn't have been illegal for you -"

"I don't care what the debauched Minister for Magic has to say about it. It's morally wrong. In the Muggle world, we call that date rape!"

Severus flinched at the word, but remained calm.

"Miss Granger, you misunderstand –"

"I told you, I don't care what the law says. I deserve to burn in hell for what I did and –"

"Miss Granger, I'm going to let you in on a little secret."

"What's that now? Let me guess, you're an avid Amortentia rapist too."

"No, Miss Granger. I, like you, recognize the inherent dangers of Amortentia if it should fall into the wrong hands. For that reason, I would never keep a pre-mixed batch of it at the school, accessible to any _wayward students_ who might decide to raid my stores on Friday evenings looking to have a _little fun_. "

Hermione flushed, "I don't believe you. There's no way Katie Bell would have –"

"I assure you, Miss Granger, it was the equivalent of pink lemonade, albeit a very powerful placebo. I'm guessing once you administered the drink, if Miss Bell saw the label, she would have considered it a free pass to…well," Snape blundered, "You see?"

"Ah," the witch nodded, "That makes sense, I guess."

"Is that of any consolation to you, then?"

"It's hard to say."

"Come again?"

"It's hard to say whether it's of any consolation to me. I still don't know what happened to me yesterday. And you still haven't answered my question. Why, professor? Why did you tamper with my memory?"

"Believe it or not, Miss Granger, I –"

"—have a vested interest in my well-being? Yeah, I know," the witch sounded unconvinced.

"I care about you," Severus said softly.

"No, you don't!" Hermione spat angrily, "How dare you?"

Snape understood.

"I am not your father, Hermione."

"I know," the witch said in a small voice, "I know that. You're Professor Snape."

"That I am," Severus spoke quietly, "But I'd also like to be your friend, if you'd let me."

"That's not possible," Hermione turned away, another niggling headache coming on, "That's not customary. Anyway, what's with you lately? This isn't like you."

She reminded him of Lily.

"I haven't been quite truthful with you. I know about your plan. That's why I gave you so many detentions. To keep an eye on you."

"My plan?"

"To kill yourself tonight by jumping off the Astronomy tower."

"How? What, do you read minds?"

"As it happens…yes. Forgive me, it wasn't quite fair of me to— You are not trained in Occlumency."

"My God, aren't you a piece of work!" Hermione scoffed, "How many times have I told you to just leave me alone? None of this is your business. You couldn't know how I feel! You couldn't know what it's like to have your parents and classmates reject you because you're gay! You don't understand!"

"I think I do, Miss Granger."

"Oh please, spare me the drugstore psychology."

"You misunderstand, Miss Granger. You are not alone."

"Yes, I am," Hermione wept devastatingly, "Yes, I am!"

If Severus had been able to steel himself to the young witch's heartache before, he could not do so now. Against his better judgement and all that was customary, he gave Hermione a hug. She clutched onto his robes with a death grip.

"You're not the only gay at Hogwarts."

"What does that mean?" Hermione let go of Snape's robes, "You're just saying that."

"I'm not. Didn't you know that Professor Dumbledore is as gay as a wand-maker?"

"He's not," she didn't believe him, "Dumbledore can't be gay. He's, well…Dumbledore. The most powerful wizard in the world."

"Do I sense a little internalized homophobia here?"

"Sorry, it's just…really? I never would have thought."

"His purple cloak and and high-heeled boots didn't give it away?"

"Do I sense a little stereotyping here?"

"Sorry, you're right. Not all gay wizards wear flamboyantly cut suits of plum velvet. I, for instance, prefer a more conservative look," Snape ventured.

"Yeah, but you're not –"

"You don't think?"

Hermione stared at him, pensively. This changed everything, somehow.

"You doubt me because of my fashion sense?" Snape kidded facetiously.

"So you and Dumbledore are an item?"

"Merlin, no!" Severus was offended, "I'm closer in age to my students. Professor Dumbledore is nearly one hundred and fifty years old!"

"So you _are _banging a student? A male student?" Hermione grinned mischievously. Her tears had stopped falling.

"I am doing no such thing!" Snape snapped, "Regardless of whatever rumours might be going around, I don't sleep with my students. Out of principle."

Across the room, Harry's spirits fell. He had been eavesdropping on the conversation with rapt attention since Snape had outed Dumbledore.

"Of course you don't," Hermione smirked, almost proud of Snape for having disclosed such intimate details of his life.

"Potter, I know you're eavesdropping on us. I see you moving over there," Severus called over, aggravation mounting in his voice.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I'm awake!" Harry retorted, unthinkingly.

Hermione laughed heartily.

"I take it your suicidal plans are on hold once again, Miss Granger?"

"I suppose they are. Thank you for everything, sir."

Snape nodded, his emotions back in check.

"Off you go, then. You wouldn't want to miss breakfast."

Harry got up to follow the witch out. The last thing he wanted was to be alone with Snape after what had happened between them Friday night.

"Not so fast, Potter."

The young wizard froze in his tracks.

"Aren't you wondering how you wound up here?"

"I figure you think I'm right mental," Harry fumed, "You're going to admit me to St. Mungo's, is that it?"

"No, Mr. Potter. That is not _it_."

"Then I'm grateful for it. Would you please let me go to breakfast now?"

"Shortly. But first, Potter, don't you think we need to have a little talk about what happened Friday night?"

"You didn't seem like you wanted to talk about it then! You threw me out of your rooms after –"

_I love you_, the words echoed in Severus' head, _I love you, sir_.

"I know. You'll have to forgive me, Potter. I'm a very… troubled man."

"I'm sorry for what I said," Harry felt ashamed.

"No," Severus began uncertainly, unsure how to qualify his disapproval of Potter's retraction, "What you said…it was very…sweet."

_I can't believe I just said that_, Snape thought, horrified.

"Don't you like me too? Even though you're mean to me, I thought you might. Agh. Sorry. I shouldn't have said that either. I don't know the proper boundaries."

"I'm scared for you sometimes, Harry," Severus said quietly, "The Dark Lord will stop at nothing to kill you. And you're not ready to face him. You're just fourteen years old."

Harry looked at his handsome professor, need in his emerald eyes.

"You're fourteen years old," Snape repeated, trying to get his point across to Potter without spelling it out for him.

"You really don't sleep with your students, huh?"

Severus smirked at the boy's forthrightness.

"Send me an owl when you're older, Potter."


	10. Leaves of Grass

*** **_A/N_ _**This story is AU and does not take into account the Triwizard Tournament. This is the final installment of **_**Occulted Hearts**_**.**_

Chapter Ten – Leaves of Grass

_I CELEBRATE myself;  
And what I assume you shall assume;  
For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you._

-Walt Whitman

_I could not, at any age, be content to take my place by the fireside and simply look on. Life was meant to be lived. Curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life._

_- _Eleanor Roosevelt

Hermione Granger lifted her purple umbrella up into the air. It was a rainy day in mid-April, and she was off to the Quidditch pitch to see a match between Slytherin and Gryffindor, the last before the Easter holiday. Harry had gone to the stadium early to practise. And so, Hermione crossed the moor alone, woolgathering as she walked. In the distance, she heard the blithe laughter of her classmates. No doubt they were excited to return home for the long weekend. As for Hermione, she would be staying at the school with Harry and a few other wizarding rejects. Her parents had not relented. Consequently, the past few days, she had experienced the return of that same old despair. _Woe is me_, she thought, as she took her seat in the bleachers.

"Is this seat taken?" a silky voice emerged from behind her.

Hermione turned around. It was Professor Snape, his black robes and hair dishevelled by the strong wind.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Long time, no see," the Potions Master sneered, not waiting for a response before he sat down next to the lonesome witch.

"Hello Professor Snape," Hermione nodded in greeting, "Don't you normally sit in the professors' box?"

"Why, yes. Usually I do," Severus admitted noncommittally, "But, incidentally, it's already full. There are scouts here today from the British Quidditch League, on the lookout for…young blood, so to speak. Such a violent game, Quidditch is. Every year, there are countless injuries as a result of it. If it were up to me, it would be banned."

"Then why do you attend so many games?" Hermione asked bluntly, "I always see you here."

"I come to support my House," Snape responded tersely, "I am Head of Slytherin, after all."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"But you were at the match two weeks ago as well, between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. And the week before that, between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw."

"My underlying reason for attending Quidditch matches is really none of your concern, now is it, Miss Granger?" Snape snarled, "But if you must know, I come to make sure no one gets hurt. You do recall that I saved your friend Mr. Potter from a certain death only a few short years ago on this very pitch."

The fifteen-year old went red.

"Yes sir, I do remember. Very well."

"Of course you would. That's also the day you set me on fire, is it not?"

"I am truly sorry about that, sir," Hermione sounded contrite, "How did you know it was me?"

"I have my ways, as you now know, Miss Granger. You would have been what, then?" Snape inquired amusedly, "Eleven? Twelve?"

"Twelve. I was twelve. I wish I could say I was two."

Severus snorted, "My, my. Didn't that little incident incense me back then! I wanted to box your ears."

"Sorry," the witch said again, increasingly embarrassed, "I jumped to the wrong conclusion. I thought you were jinxing Harry's broom, and all the while it was Quirrell."

"No matter, Miss Granger. That's all water under the bridge now," Snape said softly, surveying Gryffindor's line-up. Potter was seeker, as always. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet were chasers. The Slytherin team had undergone several substitutions after Draco Malfoy and a few other homophobic colluders had been expelled. After the incident in the dungeons, Snape had seen to it that anyone who had committed any hate crimes against Hermione or Harry in the past was sent packing.

"Harry didn't tell me there would be scouts here today," Hermione mentioned.

"Potter wouldn't have known. They made a surprise visit," Snape explained curtly, "In any case, I didn't know he was aspiring to be a professional Quidditch player. I rather thought the scouts came to see some of the more senior players, like Montague and Warrington. And for that matter, Miss Johnson and Miss Spinnet, over on your side. Very talented chasers, I must say, even if they are in Gryffindor."

"No, you're right. Harry wants to be an Auror, not an athlete," Hermione conceded, "And yes, Alicia and Angelina are right up there. They've very good. Maybe they'll get drafted."

"Perhaps," Severus said thoughtfully, eyeing Potter as he zipped past in pursuit of the Golden Snitch.

"And what are your plans for Easter, sir?" the young witch asked politely, trying to make small talk, "Will you be going on a mini-break?"

Snape grunted, "No. I'll be far too busy correcting papers. How about you, Miss Granger? I suppose you'll spend all weekend in the library."

"Most likely," Hermione said sadly, "My parents told me I wasn't to come home. They've gone on vacation in New Zealand without me."

"Well," Severus said quietly, "That's their loss. And I'm sure you'll use your time wisely. Most of your peers are likely going to show up to Potions Tuesday morning hung-over and useless."

"I could go for some firewhisky, myself," Hermione grumbled.

Snape humphed.

"You don't mean that."

"Oh, but I do, professor."

"I thought you were doing better these days, Miss Granger."

"I thought I was too," Hermione sniffled, "It's just lately…I feel lonely, you know? Now that Ginny is gone. It's like I haven't got anyone to dote on anymore. There's nothing to look forward to now."

Severus looked at her with reticent concern.

"Sorry for getting so sentimental all of a sudden," she blubbered, "I've already wasted so much of your time this year."

"Helping a student in need is never a waste of time, Miss Granger. But don't just sit there and feel sorry for yourself, girl. You've got too many things going for you."

"But Ginny –"

"Forget that redheaded twit!" Snape spat angrily, "To be frank, Miss Granger, you're too good for her. I'm sick of seeing the noxious effect that girl has on you. She's not worth it, I assure you."

Hermione glowered at her bad-tempered professor.

"You don't understand. Ginny is all I ever had."

"For the love of Merlin!" Snape moaned, "Think about it, Miss Granger. Think about it logically for one blasted second! You were someone before you met Miss Weasley and you'll be someone after. You have to let her go."

"But-"

"No. No buts. Let her go. I speak from experience. If you don't move on now Granger, you'll end up a sour old git like me. You don't want that, do you?"

"No," Hermione smirked through her tears, "I certainly wouldn't want to end up like you, Professor Snape. Greasy hair and all."

Severus Snape cuffed her in jest.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for cheek, Miss Granger."

Hermione started, "You can't be serious?"

"No, really. Ten points from Gryffindor for your chutzpah."

"That's big of you."

"Quiet! Not another word or I'll make it twenty."

_I have a reputation to protect_, Severus thought gravely, and now that Granger was back on track he'd have to step things up.

Hermione shook her head in ostensible frustration, but then looked up at Snape and winked incisively.

_Good girl_.

*

"I'm sorry I slept with Hermione Granger, all right?" Katie Bell whispered in a shadowy corner of the Three Broomsticks, "I know that you like her."

Alicia Spinnet looked up solemnly from her mug of Butterbeer.

"You've got nothing to apologize for. It barely matters, anyway. Hermione hardly knows I exist."

"She's been through a lot you know, these past few months. Just give it some time."

"She had time," Alicia retorted bitterly.

"My God. Speak of the devil…" Katie trailed off. Hermione Granger had just entered the Three Broomsticks hand-in-hand with Harry Potter.

"Great, now she's screwing our seeker too?" Alicia seethed, ogling the slender witch with the golden brown hair.

For some reason, right then, Hermione stopped and stared at the burly Quidditch player slumped in the corner booth. Alicia's russet eyes were alight with fury. The girl was not too favourably impressed, that much was clear. The witch was livid. She was outraged. Hermione didn't think she had ever seen an emotion quite so ardent, nor quite so beautiful on a face. _How dare you?_ That fiery glare seemed to say. _How dare you!_

Then Hermione remembered the name of the girl who had defended her against Draco Malfoy all those years ago.

"_At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."_

_The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered._

"_No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat._

_Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!"_

And then she realized.

But was it too late?

*

"Won't you come outside with me, Hermione?" Harry Potter asked his industrious friend, "It's Easter. And it's a beautiful, sunny day. Take a study break! Please."

"I can't. We have a Potions midterm next Wednesday, remember?"

"That's days from now! I'm not sure what Professor Snape told you, but I'm sure he didn't mean for you to be cooped up all weekend while everyone else is out having fun. I'm sure he scheduled the midterm on Wednesday on purpose anyway, because on Tuesday everybody'll be –"

"Hung-over and useless. I know. He told me," Hermione interrupted him.

"Hermione, I know this is none of my business, but…you don't cut yourself anymore do you? I never really got a chance to ask you about that. I couldn't help but notice, that night I … turned into you."

"No, of course not," the witch responded with poise, "I don't do that anymore. I'm over it."

"I'm glad," Harry smiled, "Would you stop acting so glum then and come out to play?"

"Fine," Hermione gave in, reluctantly, "But I'm bringing my books with me."

*

Indeed, it was the first balmy day of spring that year. To anyone else, Hermione and Harry looked like two happy-go-lucky children as they skipped down to the lakeshore.

"I can't believe Professor Snape told you to send him an owl when you're older!" Hermione giggled after her best friend confided in her about his crush on the Potions Master for the second time, "So that's why he goes to all your Quidditch games!"

"He still treats me like scum, though," Harry confessed, "I figure he's pretending not to like me as to not encourage any inappropriate feelings."

"I still wonder why it is he feels the need to act so mean all the time. Do you know that he took off points from Gryffindor the other day because of something I said to him at the Quidditch match? I thought it was a joke at first, because we had just been having a heart-to-heart but the man was serious!"

"Probably because he's a double agent on Dumbledore's side," Harry explained, "He couldn't have Voldemort thinking that he actually cares about us. You know, he spies on Death Eaters and such to keep me safe!"

"Oh! How romantic, Harry!"

"Well, I don't know if I'd call it that," the Boy-Who-Lived blushed, "But I'm appreciative, anyway. Maybe one day I'll get to thank him for real and all that."

*

Back in the dungeons, Severus Snape's ears were ringing something terrible.

_Potter, you overemotional teenaged girl_! Snape thought, annoyed, _Not again_…

*

_There they were again_, Alicia Spinnet noticed, revolted, as she flew over the rocky beach on her broomstick, _Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, so happy together!_

She couldn't take it any longer. She decided to touch down and give the witch a piece of her mind.

"Harry," Hermione began nervously, seeing Alicia lumber towards them, "Might you give us some privacy?"

"Sure," Harry grinned knowingly, and then took off sprinting over the sea green heath towards the castle.

Hermione put down her schoolwork under an ancient oak tree bordering the lake, and went to meet Alicia halfway.

"Congratulations on being drafted, Alicia!" Hermione smiled warmly, "I knew you could do it."

Alicia ignored this, though it touched her deeply to hear the fourth-year say that.

"Where did your boyfriend go?" the athletic witch asked the bookworm indignantly.

"Harry's not my boyfriend," Hermione chortled, "I'm gay. Everyone knows that."

Alicia's frown softened, "Of course. You and Katie –"

"Made a mistake, Alicia," Hermione grimaced, "If I could take it back, I would. A couple months ago, I didn't know whether I wanted to live or die, let alone who I wanted to be with."

"I take it things are much clearer now."

"They are, yes."

"And?"

"I'm begging you to give me a second chance," Hermione pleaded, "I didn't know it then, but I see it now. I saw it the first time the other day, at the Three Broomsticks, when I came in with Harry and you looked daggers at me. That rage – that was love. A love worth waiting for. All my suffering – suddenly it didn't matter anymore."

With that, Alicia kissed Hermione tenderly on the lips.

"The tea leaves were right. You are wise beyond your years. I was wrong to doubt you, my love."

The younger witch buried her tortured head in Alicia's yielding bosom and broke out into joyful tears.

"Hey, Hermione, you crying?"

"Yes," came the fourth-year's muffled sob.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Nothing's wrong. That's just it, Alicia. I don't think I could possibly deserve your forgiveness. It must be some happy mistake."

"You deserve far more, I reckon," the kind-hearted chaser whispered, "But I'll make sure you never want for love again."

*

"Aw, that's really sweet," Harry Potter remarked as he watched the girls' amorous embrace from the courtyard, "Isn't that sweet, Snape?"

"Positively saccharine," Severus remarked snidely, joining him, "Could you be any more maudlin, Potter?"

"Do you think that could be us, one day, sir?"

"POTTER! Fifty points from Gryffindor for hitting on a teacher."

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized wretchedly.

"You exasperate me, you foolish child," Snape sighed resignedly.

"A boy can dream can't he?" the mischievous teenager wondered aloud.

"It won't always be like this," Severus promised hastily, "but for as long as you're underage and the Dark Lord is at large, this is the way it's got to be, kiddo."

"Aw, but Professor Snape!"

"No! No buts! No interjections of any sort! Now, I really need to have a talk with you about controlling your emotions and disciplining your mind, boy. It appears there is a connection between the Dark Lord's mind and your own. Whether he is, as yet, aware of this connection is for the moment unclear. Pray he remains ignorant."

"You mean if he knows about it then, he'll be able to read my mind and find out you're secretly attracted to me?"

"Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!" Severus began testily, "Used properly, the power of Occlumency will help shield you from access or influence…"

**THE END**


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